Chile

Life without Pinochet

WHEN, on October 16th last year, General Augusto Pinochet was arrested in London at the request of a Spanish judge, his supporters gave warning that Chile would become ungovernable and that its democracy was at risk. A year later, not only have neither of those forecasts proved accurate, but Chilean democracy is turning into a rather livelier and less cowed affair.

Chileans have gradually tired of the legal intricacies of the Pinochet case. The general's most vocal supporters and detractors still gather in all-night vigils to await court verdicts, most recently that of the London magistrate who ruled on October 8th that he could be extradited to Spain for trial on charges of torture and conspiracy to torture. They will be out again for this weekend's anniversary. But their numbers have thinned of late. The crowd barriers, still in place outside the British and Spanish embassies in Santiago, now attract more litter than demonstrators.

A tiny right-wing terrorist group, Fatherland and Freedom, has placed a few small bombs, and threatens more. Britain's honorary consul in Valparaiso, Chile's main port, resigned on October 13th, after death threats. But apart from the odd outspoken comment, the armed forces' commanders have maintained both discipline and public loyalty to the centre-left government of President Eduardo Frei. The government, in turn, has argued with Spain and Britain that their courts lack jurisdiction in the Pinochet case, and that the general should be returned to Chile. Though relations with Spain in particular have suffered some strains, that did not stop Spanish companies investing $3.9 billion in Chile in the six months to June.

Since Chile returned to democracy in 1990, its conservative opposition has held a veto over change: the existence of nine appointed senators (several linked to the security forces) has denied centre-left governments a majority for constitutional change, including overturning an amnesty covering atrocities during the bloodiest period of General Pinochet's 1973-90 dictatorship. But since the general's arrest, Chile has begun a more open debate about the dictatorship's legacy, and its courts have become readier to hear human-rights cases. Some conservative politicians “are now willing to consider that human-rights violations were the result of a government policy, a possibility hard to imagine a year ago,” argues Human Rights Watch, a New York-based group, in a report released this week.

Government officials argue that this would have happened anyway. Perhaps so: General Pinochet lost much of his power when he retired as army commander in March 1998. That prompted a few pro-government congressmen to try to impeach him, and some of those who had suffered during his rule started to file charges against him in the courts. A 1997 law swept away most of the members of the Supreme Court appointed by the dictatorship. Their replacements have nibbled at the amnesty—in particular, by ruling in July that this did not cover still unresolved “disappearances”.

Since then, three retired generals (one of them a member of the dictatorship's military junta), and over 20 former junior officers (some policemen), have been arrested. That has worried the armed forces' new, younger, commanders. They agreed to take part in government-sponsored talks with human-rights lawyers, which began on August 30th. The main topic is the whereabouts of the bodies of the more than 1,100 people officially said to have “disappeared” during the dictatorship. Although the armed forces deny having information, they had in the past rejected all discussion of the matter. Their presence at the talks is at least a limited admission of institutional responsibility.

Some 40 cases against General Pinochet himself have now been filed in Chile's courts. But could he ever face trial there? Opinion polls suggest that is what a majority of Chileans want. A year ago, nobody believed it could ever happen. His victims remain sceptical, but they are no longer quite so dismissive. On October 11th, the Supreme Court ruled that the general must answer 75 questions tabled by a Chilean judge and lawyers for victims of the dictatorship.

The general's lawyers are considering whether to appeal against the extradition ruling. Chile's government is pressing for his release on compassionate grounds. Its main fear is that the general, who is 83 and suffers from several ailments, might die in detention far from home. That could make him a martyr. It might also hurt the chances of Ricardo Lagos, the candidate of the government coalition, in December's presidential election.

British officials have said that they will not consider releasing General Pinochet on compassionate grounds until legal proceedings are finished. But Juan Gabriel Valdes, Chile's foreign minister, says he has received assurances from his British counterpart, Robin Cook, that it is not his intention to let the old general die in Britain.

But nor would the British government relish the idea of releasing an allegedly moribund former dictator, only to see him make a remarkable recovery once home. Barring a sudden deterioration in his health, the general now seems likely to remain in his Surrey mansion for months, possibly years, while his appeal drags on.